


some velvet morning

by jericheaux



Series: the paris job [1]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Shotgunning, set sometime during the 9 yrs they spent together...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 16:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jericheaux/pseuds/jericheaux
Summary: A rare moment of domesticity between the two of them.[ warning for mentions of violence & alcohol ]





	some velvet morning

**Author's Note:**

> fluffy ocelhira *crushes a glass in my hand*
> 
> my twitterrr is @ se_si_bon
> 
> also the title is from a song by my love ms nancy sinatra

Kaz jolts out of a dreamless sleep so suddenly that it leaves him disoriented. 

The bed he's in is small but nice- a large wooden frame comes into view when he pulls his face out of the cheap pillows- there's no sheet covering his sweat-tacky body. A few deep breaths through his sleep-thick throat clear his groggy thoughts and he quickly recalls his location- Paris.

"City of love," Ocelot says. Kaz didn't even notice the man sitting next to him, clad only in Kaz's unbuttoned shirt that hangs too large off his slender frame; the Parisian paper in his right hand and a glass of water in his left. 

"Coffee," Kaz mumbles. Buries his head back into the pillows. Beyond the scent of sweat, there's the perfume Ocelot wears, the deodorant Kaz uses, the pungent smell of wine. Faintly he can hear Ocelot sliding out of the bed, slinking about like a cat on the hunt as he prepares a pot of coffee. Their rented room- in an attic above some gambling den that Ocelot was able to find through a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy- is minuscule and no more than a kitchenette, the bed with some amenities, and a converted closet with a sink and toilet in it. Kaz rolls to sit upright as Ocelot brings him a fresh cup.

"Good?" Ocelot asks. Places the mug into Kaz's hands. Kaz nods as he takes the first sip. Continues to watch as Ocelot takes a seat on a rickety dining chair by the window. There's a fan there, old and plastic and just circulating the heavy, humid air, but it's better than nothing. Ocelot pulls a tiny knife from out behind his ear that Kaz didn't notice was hiding underneath his blonde hair. On the surprisingly ornate table next to the chair there's a candle holder and a short, white candle laying next to it. Kaz drinks and watches as Ocelot meticulously carves down the base of the candle, tests if it'll fit into the holder. Fits it in, procures a lighter from the shirt pocket, lights the stubby thing. The little flame dances under the breeze. 

"What time is it?"

"11 AM," Ocelot answers. "Figured I'd let you sleep. We don't have to be out of here late and we didn't get back until dawn last night." 

Kaz recalls- the two of them, a club, their mark. Some scummy investor who ratted out a minor bit of intel to the wrong people. Ocelot's pretty hands, his perfectly sharp nails curled around the trigger of a silenced pistol as they met the man in an alleyway. One pull, one bullet. Kaz, coked-up, rummaging through the man's pockets for anything useful before Ocelot pushed him aside, marred the dead man's face with the same knife he now uses on the candle. Kaz vaguely remembers shuffling from foot to foot, thoughts racing, as Ocelot sliced and burned their marks fingertips. An easy way to buy some time on identification. 

"Thanks," Kaz says, and Ocelot gives him one of his bijou smiles, responds with "Slide me a smoke." Kaz sets the now-empty mug on the floor and leans over to dig through his pants pocket, grabs a loose one from the pack and tosses it to Ocelot; who catches it midair. 

"Why don't you wear your own clothes," Kaz complains, just as Ocelot slides the tip of the cig into the candle's flame and pulls a drag from it. The bed creaks when he settles next to Kaz on his knees and grabs Kaz's chin delicately. Kaz parts his mouth a tiny bit in reflex and Ocelot blows a thin line of smoke between Kaz's lips, down into his lungs, before kissing him- soft and wet and warm and exceedingly, painfully, gentle in a way that sets Kaz's heart on fire. Ocelot's lips are smooth, himself seemingly content to rest his mouth against Kaz's. A bit of saliva drips off of Kaz's lip when they part and Ocelot chastely kisses it off of his chin. 

"My own clothes are covered in blood," Ocelot murmurs and smokes again. "They're soaking in the sink." More memories from last night flash-bang into Kaz's mind- he and Ocelot shaking the bed frame as the sun rose, Ocelot sitting on his thighs and pouring cheap wine into his mouth, licking it from his lips, Ocelot, sticky and satisfied; dozing off on his chest right before Kaz passed out cold.

"Do you want to go get breakfast? There's a patisserie down the street." Ocelot cocks his head slightly to the side and Kaz studies the slant of sunlight on his high cheekbones, the mascara and eyeliner smeared around his tired eyes, the remains of highlighter and flecks of dried blood mixed in with the scruff on his chin. 

"Let's stay a while longer," Kaz says, wraps his hands around Ocelot's waist. Ocelot hums and leans his forehead into Kaz's shoulder, drops the cigarette to ash out on the bedspread right next to the forgotten newspaper. 

"Alright," he yawns, "but not too long. I'd like to try some escargot before we head out."

"You know that's snails, right?"

Kaz feels Ocelot's face crinkle in disgust and he stifles a laugh as he says, "Get me another cup of coffee before you fall asleep, will you?"

Ocelot fusses, gets up, makes a show of languidly pouring the now-cold coffee into the mug. He shoves the mug into Kaz's right hand, who politely says nothing as Ocelot collapses next to him once again. 

"You're gonna be the death of me, you know that," Kaz whispers. Ocelot lolls his head to the side and looks up at Kaz. Winks, smiles, and fumbles for Kaz's left hand to kiss his knuckles. Kaz grins back and makes a move to get the paper out from under Ocelot just as the man falls asleep. Ocelot's normally shallow breathing sinks deeper as the exhaustion takes over. Kaz smiles again, stupidly, happily, and smoothes Ocelot's hair with his left hand, plays with it when Ocelot purrs a bit and nuzzles up into his palm in his sleep. He trades Ocelot's thick hair for the paper and catches up on news of a mutilated dead body found in an alley as Ocelot rests next to him; both content in the muggy heat of a Paris summer.


End file.
